


Smiley Faces

by oldmythologies



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Background Shiro/Matt, M/M, commission, pen pal soulmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-27
Updated: 2017-09-27
Packaged: 2019-01-06 00:42:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12200547
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oldmythologies/pseuds/oldmythologies
Summary: The words didn’t start out as words. First, before Keith knew enough of the letters to read, he got pictures.They liked the sun. They liked to give their suns legs and sunglasses (why did the sun need sunglasses?). They put him next to doodles of waves and flowers and put a smiley face on everything. Everything was alive, to them. Keith knew, even after he learned to read and his soulmate learned to write, that he could always look down and have a smiley face on the back of his hand. He could feel the Crayola markers bleed into his skin from who knew how far away, and as that little half circle seeped into existence, his face always threatened to mirror it.An anonymous commission <3





	Smiley Faces

The words didn’t start out as words. First, before Keith knew enough of the letters to read, he got pictures.

They liked the sun. They liked to give their suns legs and sunglasses (why did the sun need sunglasses?). They put him next to doodles of waves and flowers and put a smiley face on everything. Everything was alive, to them. Keith knew, even after he learned to read and his soulmate learned to write, that he could always look down and have a smiley face on the back of his hand. He could feel the Crayola markers bleed into his skin from who knew how far away, and as that little half circle seeped into existence, his face always threatened to mirror it.

Instead, he rolled his eyes and pulled his sleeve down over his hand, gripping the wrinkled fabric in his palms.

Sometimes, in the dark of night and on the bottom bunk, inching as close to the dusty window as he dared, clutching the stolen Bic pen in his small hands, grip clumsy. His letters were shaky and unpracticed.

_ Hello _ , he started. He was very glad that all the letters were the same, no matter which way they were flipped. He still had trouble with  _ b  _ and  _ d _ .

He watched his arm, waiting for the smiley face or exclamation point or doodle of a smiling flower. He fell asleep, hand held tight against his chest, before he got a response. He woke with pillow lines on his face, and on his arm—

Keith didn’t think he’d ever seen anything so colorful, not in his entire life. The designs stretched from the tips of his fingers to his elbow. Keith didn’t even know they made that many colors of marker. He caught at the very least three different shades of blue. He guessed that his soulmate's favorite color was blue; they seemed to use a whole lot of it. Keith thought he liked it too. It was smiley faces and flowers and suns with sunglasses, and right on the palm, it said, in simple, round letters,  _ hi _ .

Keith bit on his smile, put on an extra large sweater, and made sure it covered his left hand. 

That was the first time they talked, and as Keith moved from house to house, they kept talking, for a while. His soulmate never lost their penchant for the color blue and suns with sunglasses, but at some point, the random words on his arm became essays. His soulmate would describe the smallest things. They liked to talk about their siblings, and their mom, and sandcastles. They loved the beach, and when Keith was eight, his soulmate went surfing for the first time.

Keith's responses were always in the middle of the night. His soulmate probably though he lived on the other side of the world, with his schedule. Something about it just felt illegal and wrong to Keith. He wasn't supposed to have someone to talk to. They always told him that at school. The kids yelled, and they were loud, and they had parents, so they must be right.

His responses were short. His soulmate would ask _ did you have a good day? _ and Keith would write back,  _ it was okay _ . He never added a smiley face. Only his soulmate did that. He would leave it to them.

They grew up. Keith moved houses every few years, his soulmate's essays became more eloquent and his doodles got more elaborate.

Somewhere along the way, Keith stopped caring about the marks that would show up on his arm. He'd been the foster kid of too many parents that were "soulmates." Didn't really seem like something he wanted to be a part of.

His soulmate never stopped writing.

* * *

It was two months until he turned sixteen. Just two months, and they moved him again. It was okay, he told himself. He'd be at the same school, he still had his grades, he would be fine. He just had to live for a few more months, and it would be okay. He could emancipate himself at sixteen.

The Holts were nothing like the rest of the families. They didn't bring him in as some toy to be paraded in front of their friends; they didn't want the state allotted money that he brought with him. It almost seemed like Colleen and Sam wanted a son; he wasn't naive enough to let himself believe that, not really. 

Katie was two years younger than him. He thought he recognized her from school, but he couldn't be sure. He tried his best not to remember faces. He'd forget them soon anyways.

Katie was smart. She knew how to push all of his buttons. She didn't, though.

Matt was already off at college (maybe they just wanted a replacement?).

The first time he visited, Matt brought his soulmate home.

"Mom!" he shouted, keys falling onto a hook, metal hitting metal, and he closed the door with a slam. Keith jumped at the sudden noise, all the way in his room at the back of his house. "Dad! Pidge! We're here!"

There was another rush of noise as Colleen ran from the kitchen, Katie slammed her door close, and Sam pulled himself away from his study. They were all yelling. Keith wasn't very loud; the Holts were the opposite. He steeled himself, staring at the blank walls that he refused to decorate, and left the room. Colleen had asked him to be there, so he would.

Matt's soulmate was the first one to see him some down the stairs. He was the first to smile, push his way through the hugging, shouting Holts, and extend a hand.

"You must be Keith."

They shook hands and Keith nodded. Matt's tawny head popped up over the larger man's shoulder. Matt slung an easy arm around him. He followed suit.

"Nice to meet you, Keith!"

Keith had expected dinner to be awkward. A new family member, a new foster kid, it was a lot to take in. It wasn't.

Shiro and Matt, It was like--

Keith didn't have the words to explain it. It wasn't like they finished each other's sentences. It wasn't like they didn't look at anyone else. It was--

They told jokes that only the other thought were funny. They fought about favorite foods. Shiro loved spicy food, and Matt insisted that food should never hurt you, and they laughed. Matt handed Shiro the hot sauce.

Keith almost believed in soulmates. He gripped his sleeve in his palm.

At the end of the night, Shiro asked for Keith's phone and entered his number.

"Scholarships are rough. Let me know if you need any help. I had to do it myself and it wasn't fun."

That night, with a Bic pen from the pencil case Colleen had gotten for him in his first week, he wrote back.

_ It's been a while. _

* * *

Their aerospace engineering course was the best in the country. Shiro said so, the internet said so, Sam said so, all the books said so. So he was here. The campus carried that warm low breeze that belied the oncoming winter. He felt a hand on his shoulder and turned to give Shiro his customary awkward smile.

"You ready?"

Keith shrugged.

"As I'll ever be."

Shiro pulled him into a side hug for just a moment, not long enough to comment on but long enough to appreciate, and pushed Keith towards his first class.

"You'll kick ass."

* * *

Keith kicked ass. He carried a drive that most of the rich kids at his private university hadn't had time to grow. Too many of them had designer backpacks and a new laptop every semester. Keith worked with what he had, took as little as he could from Shiro and the Holts, and did better than all of them.

It was easy, really. Keith was the happiest he’d ever been. He had friends, Katie joined him at the university just a year later, he had a plan, and in a way, he had a family. His conversations with his soulmate were short, but always positive. Every time they asked to exchange information, to meet up, to Skype, whatever, Keith would always write back:  _ It’ll happen, eventually. Just wait.  _ He was in no rush. He was comfortable.

It got a bit more difficult in his third year. Shiro had warned him about professor Alfor’s class. Keith hadn’t believed him.

Alfor was a genius, no doubt. Keith had to take notes for the first time, in his class. Keith hung on every single word he said, every little tip and story about making the best ships in the world.

It was hard, but Keith though he was doing pretty well.

He got a D on the first exam.

He fought the urge to crumple it up in his hand, the angry red letter mocking him. Next to the letter, in loopy red script, the words  _ great attempt! _

His soulmate’s handwriting was way better.

Shaking at the end of an unproductive class, Keith pulled out his phone.

 

**Keith:** I got a D.

**Shiro:** lol I got a D on the first test too! Twins haha

**Keith:** I’ve never gotten a D before.

**Shiro:** Oh no, mister genius will need to learn how to study, what a shame

**Keith:** Shiro. D.

**Shiro:** Haha, don’t worry. Just get a study buddy. Matt babied me through that whole class

**Keith:** I don’t know anyone!

**Shiro:** Who’s sitting next to you?

 

Keith looked to his right. No one. To his left. No one. Class had ended a few minutes before and no one was left in the classroom except for Professor Alfor and one other student, asking him a question.

The student was too tall. Keith immediately disliked him. His jacket was dumb. His hair was dumb.

 

**Keith:** Can’t you just help me?

**Shiro:** lol be a big boy, make some new friends

 

Keith sighed. Whatever. The other student finished asking the question and went back to his seat to pack up, right in the middle of the lecture hall.  _ Kiss ass _ .

Keith shook his head. That was probably a good thing, for him.

The brunette moved to leave. Keith sipped up his bag and ran after him.

“Hey!” he managed to shout, pausing the tall student in the doorway.

He turned to Keith, curiosity in his eyes, and Keith stopped.

His soulmate loved that shade of blue.

“Hello?” the student said, voice raising at the end like a question. It wasn’t a question, why did he ask it like that?

Keith coughed.

“We should study some time.” His words came out in one string of syllables. Why was he so nervous? He was just asking his dumb classmate to study, not asking someone to prom.

His smile was absurdly wide. Keith fought the urge to mirror it. 

“That sounds great!” 

The other student bounded back into the room and stuck out a long hand in front of Keith, readjusting the bag on his back.

“I’m Lance.”

Keith stared at the hand for a second, slender fingers and lanky arm, back to the student’s face, and grabbed the hand.

“Keith.”

* * *

They agreed to meet at the library. Lance had gone so far as to reserve a table for them

Keith arrived exactly at six PM. When he walked in, Lance was already there, hunched over the table, blue pen in hand and sleeve rolled up, doodling on his arm. Keith took the moment to take in the library, the wooden table with years of graffiti scratched in and sanded off, the stained carpet with the awful pattern that seemed to be in every room in the college.

“You’re early.”

Lance jumped to standing, pulling his sleeve down as he went, like he was hiding something shameful. He smiled nonetheless. Lance was always smiling. It was hard to get used to. Keith remembered all those smiley faces, up and down his arms as a kid.

“I like to be early, it helps me get centered, you know? Focus.” Lance brought both hands up to the side of his head, stared at the book in front of him, and moved his hands with his gaze, like he was laser focusing.

Keith hid his laugh with a cough and nodded.

Lance was smart. He took good notes. He was long winded, but that was okay. Keith liked to listen, especially when his words were important. They worked well together. Keith was hopeful for his grade on the next test.

That night, when he got home and rolled up his sleeves, he caught a blue smiley face on the inside of his wrist, obviously worn down by a few hours, but still bright against his pale skin.

Keith smiled with it.

* * *

They’d been working together for a few months. They got lunch together, sometimes, had studied at Lance’s place and at Keith’s place, had ordered a few pizzas, watched a movie or two together during their breaks. Keith would hesitate to call them  _ friends _ , but he liked Lance. They fought about math, about the dumb things that Lance thought were cool, but Keith liked him. Katie liked him; Shiro liked him. Matt was abroad for the semester, but Shiro had told his soulmate all about Keith’s first friend that wasn’t one of them.

Keith rolled his eyes and pretended not to be smiling.

He didn’t know when he started to get excited for their study dates—no, not dates. Their study  _ sessions _ . He didn’t think he could get any happier, but it had happened. He wrote to his soulmate more. They talked about exchanging phone numbers, soon. His soulmate never pushed. Keith loved them for it.

They met at the library. They hadn’t met at the library in a few weeks, instead opting for one of their couches. Last week Keith had been treating to the cooking of Lance’s roommate. They had an exam in two days and were most likely to get actual work done, there.

They were halfway through the study guide when the campus shook.

They looked at each other, shrugged, and went back to work.

Keith didn’t get a text for another twenty minutes.

 

**Katie:** Shiro’s in the hospital

**Katie:** Someone’s thesis exploded and the idiot decided to save them

**Katie:** Mom and dad are calling Matt and I’m getting an uber there. He’s at western grace. Go fast

 

Keith didn’t know how long he’d been staring at his phone when Lance tapped his shoulder. Keith jumped, chair falling behind him. Lance followed him up, wide eyed.

“I have to go,” Keith said, trying to gather all of his things with shaking hands. He moved to scoop all the highlighters into his bag and instead dropped them all on the carpet. Keith swore he felt every single one drop and fell to his knees behind them, trying to pick them up as quickly as he could.

_ Yellow, pink, green, blue, and _ —

His mind stuttered. Where was the purple highlighter? He had a purple highlighter and it fell with the other ones, he’d seen it fall, right? Where was it? His hands blindly groped at the ugly stained carpet.

He felt his hands stop moving.

He realized how fast he was breathing.

He was under a table. 

He found Lance’s eyes in the darkness.

“What happened?” he asked, soft.

Keith looked back at the hands on top of his.

“Shiro’s at Western Grace.”

The hands tightened. “What?!”

Lance liked Shiro. Everyone liked Shiro. Keith nodded.

“Some explosion in the hangars.”

Keith didn’t know what happened, but he was held against Lance’s chest. He didn’t realize how badly he’d been shaking. He breathed out and back in, the scent of Lance’s dumb jacket and hair filling his lungs. He wasn’t shaking as much, anymore.

He pushed Lance away, highlighters in hand, and stood up. This time, packing up went much better. The purple highlighter was still on the table.

“I have to go.”

“How are you going to get there?” Lance asked, carefully standing up as to not hit his head on the low table.

Keith paused, but zipped up his backpack.

“Uber?”

Lance shook his head. “No way. I have a car. I’ll drive you.”

Keith wanted to fight it, to tell him that he wanted to go alone. He was used to doing things alone.

Lance looked so earnest, so worried. Keith nodded.

He didn’t have to do it all alone.

* * *

Katie was already crying in the waiting room by the time Keith and Lance showed up. She ran straight from her seat to wrap er arms around Keith.

He hugged back, fighting the instinct that said  _ Shiro’s already dead. He’s gone and you didn’t get to say goodbye.  _ A few tears slipped out before Katie could pull away and say anything. Lance’s warm hand on his shoulder helped more than Keith would ever like to admit.

They peeled themselves apart, Katie wiped her eyes, and told them everything they knew. Shiro had lost a lot of blood. The right side of his body was a mess, and the doctors didn’t think they could save the arm. The didn’t even know if he’d make it. His concussion was severe. It was bad. Katie had seen them wheel Shiro in. It was bad.

But he was alive.

Katie grabbed Keith’s hand, gave it a squeeze, pulled herself together, and went to call Matt. It wasn’t going to be a fun call.

Keith turned to Lance. He went to wipe his face and realized Lance’s hand was still on his shoulder. He didn’t want it to move.

“Thanks for the ride.”

Lance shook his head violently, hair swishing back and forth with the movement. Lance did everything all out. He smiled completely, shook his head with fervor, and when he looked at Keith, Keith knew he meant it.

“I’m not going anywhere.”

Keith couldn’t do much but nod. Lance led him to sit down on the cracking vinyl chairs. Every time Keith got too caught up in the pattern of the wallpapers, or stared too long at the poor nurses coming and going from their stations. Lance would start talking.

He told Keith about his siblings, his mom, and his favorite colors. Keith didn’t catch on many of the words, but he appreciated the murmur. It helped him stop thinking about Shiro. Shiro bleeding out, Shiro dying, Mat never getting to say good—

Lance started talking again.

When Katie got back from the call, her eyes were still puffy and red.

“Matt’s trying to get the first plane back.”

Keith nodded. He felt like he hadn’t said anything in hours, but every time he tried to say something the words got stuck in his throat. Lance covered Keith’s hand with his own and turned to Katie.

“Good, thank you, Katie.”

She nodded and wiped her face, sitting down next to Keith.

* * *

Katie fell asleep first, snoring back against the faded chair.

Keith got lost in his head again, drifting at the edge of sleep, and Lance started talking again.

“I remember the first time my soulmate talked to me,” he murmured, voice strained with use, “it was in the middle of the night for me, and by the time I woke up, their writing was already all smudgy.”

Keith tried to listen. It helped to listen, helped keep his heart down, out of his throat.

“I was so excited. I showed my mom.” Lance huffed a laugh, eyes still closed. Keith breathed out the sterile hospital air and ran his thumbs over the wooden armrests. He forget Lance’s hand was on his until Lance squeezed it back to still.

“She gave me a bunch of markers for my birthday and I swear to god, I used every single one in my response. At the very least, I used three different shades of blue.”

Keith tensed. Lance brushed a thumb over Keith’s knuckles, assuming it was the same old worry, and kept talking. Keith closed his eyes and tried to make sure his breathing stayed even.

“I drew so many smiley faces on my arm. Still do, sometimes. They seem sad.”

Keith shifted in his long sleeve shirt.

A lot of people like smiley faces.

Lance fell asleep first.

* * *

Matt showed up in the early light of the morning, hair still frazzled from a last minute cross country flight. The bags under his eyes stood out, a mottled mix of purple and red. Judging my the lumpy bags he dropped on the floor, startling them all awake, he’d come straight from the airport.

Katie was up and in his arms before Matt could breathe.

He pressed his face into her hair. Keith was sure that Katie was basically holding him up as she recited everything the doctors had told him about Shiro’s condition. He’d already gotten all of it on the phone, but tension melted from his body with every word.

Shiro would live.

He’d live, without an arm.

After talking to the nurse, Matt was admitted into Shiro’s room. No one else, just his soulmate.

Keith swallowed.

Soulmate.

Lance’s hand hadn’t left his all night.

He could deal with it, not right now. Not while Shiro was still on the brink of de—

Shiro would be fine.

Shiro woke up in the early afternoon. Lance still hadn’t left Keith’s side. They got bad hospital food together. Lance got a hot tea, pulled his voice back together, and kept talking. 

Shiro was in and out the rest of the day, and Lance, Keith, and Katie, got another bad meal together before the doctor ordered them to go home. Keith watched through the little window as Matt held a sobbing Shiro, bandages covering his entire body, and he fought his own tears. He felts Lance’s hand on his shoulder, eyes on his back. He breathed. 

“We should go home.”

Keith nodded.

* * *

Keith hadn’t been aware of just how bad they both smelled until the sliding glass doors opened in front of them.

Breathing out the alcohol and disinfectant and cracked vinyl chairs, he turned to Lance.

The setting sun caught on his hair. Keith hadn’t notice how shiny it was. He wanted to dig his hairs into the soft strands, to bring those eyes closer to his, and—

Whoa.

Lance had his sleeves rolled up, and on his wrist, in smudging blue ink, a blue smiley face. Keith’s breath stuck in his throat.

Lance threw him a tired smiled and brought the hand, the one with the smile, up to his head, ruffling the unwashed hair.

“What’s up?”

Keith pulled at his left sleeve and looked at his wrist.

There, stark against his pale skin, a blue smiley face.

“Keith?” Lance asked.

Keith had never been one for words. Instead, in front of a tired hospital in the orange light of the dying day, Keith showed Lance his wrist.

He expected yelling. He expected Lance to ask why he was such a bad soulmate, why he never wanted to meet, why he sucked at letting Lance know that he was even alive. He expected Lance to admonish his shitty handwriting and lack of smiley faces, the lack of suns with sunglasses.

He didn’t expected Lance’s face to mirror the one carried on both of their wrists.

He smiled down at Keith, the blue in his eyes the same color as the pen.

“I’m sorry,” Keith started, “for being so bad at this. I’m sorry I never wrote, but you—“

The rest of Keith’s apology was swallowed up by Lance’s hug. His chest shook with his laugh, delirious and tight.

“Keith,” he spoke, over and over again, laughing, rocking back and forth.

He was happy. Keith blinked away the tears and let his arms wrap around Lance’s waist.

“You got me through so much with the dumb smiley faces,” he said, into Lance’s shoulder.

Lance laughed once more.

“I’m so glad it’s you. My crush was getting weird.”

Keith found himself mirroring the smiley face on both of their wrists.


End file.
